


Echoes of the Past

by CrystallicSky



Series: Oneshots [3]
Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Ghost of Maiden's Peak, Ghosts, Inspired by Pokemon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-13
Updated: 2007-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallicSky/pseuds/CrystallicSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War is a terrible thing, destroying families, friendships, and lovers without distinction...but what if one pair of lovers refused to accept that as a finality?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes of the Past

On an island in the Black Sea, separate from any known society, there is a small settlement; a small town with a small population and small profits, but as there wasn't very many people, obviously, their small economy was enough to keep them content.

In this small place, one would think that the happenings here were equally miniscule, and insignificant to the extreme.

They would be wrong.

On the contrary, it is always the littlest places that host the _biggest_ things.

This tale begins many years in the past, when our small island town was even smaller and _much_ newer than today, back in times of war and death abound.

"There is no other choice, my people," spoke the resounding voice of the village chief, "we must become involved!"

A loud clamor rang out amongst the citizens, and protests were vehemently declared. "This war is not ours!" and "It is madness to make such a choice!"

"It is already too late to disagree!" the chief silenced the crowd, "The war has begun and our involvement made clear! All able-bodied men will be present tomorrow morning at the shore and will be sent off as reinforcements to our allies, and it is _not_ disputable. I declare this council dismissed!"

Not even staying to hear any closing statements, one villager swiftly exited the meeting building.

Moments later found this person, a pale, white-haired anomaly amongst the dark-haired and tanned population, standing at the jagged and ominous cliff at the edge of the island, overlooking the sandy shore.

A man who had been standing at the cliff, watching the tempestuous waves crash against the beach far below, turned half-way as the thin, white creature's form collided with his, its pale arms hugging him around the waist. "Has a verdict been reached, my love?" Light sobbing was the only reply aside from the not-so-subtle tightening of the other's grip. "I see. So the conflict has reached a boiling point, then." A shaky nod was felt at his back as the man's lover nuzzled his long black hair.

"I can't lose you, Chase," the youth sobbed desperately, "I can't!"

The elder of the two abruptly whirled to face the distraught boy, crushing him to his chest. "You will not lose me, Jack."

The white-haired youth sniffled, shifting in Chase's grip as if to verify its realness. "If it weren't for my leg, I could be right there with you." When Jack was very young, perhaps six years at best, a crazed villager had attacked him with a machete, claiming him a devil-child for his looks. The wound left on his right calf had never healed quite right, and ever since, there had been a hitch in his step. It was very slight, but more than enough to label him a detraction in battle.

"No," Chase stated firmly, "I would not allow it, even if I had to cripple you myself. You will stay here, _safe_ , and I will go and fight this reckless chief's war."

Jack scoffed at the chief's mention. "Because he feels insulted by one of those warmongers, we will be forever torn apart by this war waged against his imagined foe!" Whimpering slightly, he snuggled closer into his lover's embrace. "It's not fair…"

"No, my love," the man sighed, stroking stark white hair soothingly, "it isn't."

The youth was quiet for a moment. "I can't lose you," he said again.

"You will not."

"Chase, you can't promise that. This is a _war._ "

"Then I promise you this: I will come back to you. If it is the last thing I do, I will even refuse to part from this world until I return to your side, _no matter what._ "

Jack took a contemplative second for himself. "If you can promise that, then the least you should expect of me is that I'll wait for you. I swear that I'll be here when you come back, even if that takes forever."

The earnesty in the statement made Chase grin proudly at his lover's fidelity. On their island, monogamous relationships were almost unheard of, any courtship usually meant strictly for the purpose of making children. Despite the ambiguous gender roles of their relationship (though both involved acknowledged who the "woman" was), it made Chase feel secure that his Jack would pledge loyalty to him regardless of a culture that would expect him to reproduce with various females once his lover was no longer an obstacle. "I shall come back all the sooner, knowing that you await me here."

Jack pressed himself closer to Chase, locking their lips in a searing kiss. Pulling away, lust-clouded red eyes immediately caught the elder's attention. "Chase," the young man breathed, brushing suggestively against the man, "I should like to…well, before you must leave, I mean…"

Chase laid one hand on his partner's hip, the other on his forehead to tilt the youth's head back to reciprocate the passionate kiss. "No more words, Jack," the man hushed gently, "only our love."

The night then came and went in the purest of passions, and all too soon, sunrise arrived, and Chase was sent off to war.

The warrior fought valiantly, in the hopes that his efforts would end the war that much sooner and return him to his beloved, but his determination was, sadly enough, in vain. Chase was killed a year and a half into the war, stabbed in the back by an enemy whom a neglectful ally hadn't quite taken care of.

Jack, as the years passed, remained standing atop the cliff, looking out at the sea, praying for his Chase to return to him. The village women, understanding his heartbreak through their own losses, came to him daily, bringing meals and suggestions that he come back to the village. It wasn't healthy to mourn so deeply, they said. It was unnatural to sleep, however little he got, standing up and with open eyes, they insisted.

But they didn't understand.

Those women had other ties, other family back at the village: children, parents, sisters, friends.

Jack had no one.

For as long as he could remember, Jack had been alone, abandoned by even his parents and ignored or hated by everyone.

But then Chase had come into his life, and everything changed. He was loved by the strongest and most attractive warrior in the entire village, and people started, for the first time, to really notice him. Their false kindness, forced due to Chase's high status as a threat, turned to true kindness as they learned of the youth's character. The "demon" rumors all but stopped, and for once in his life, Jack was happy.

Everything he had, he owed to Chase, and upon consequence of death, he refused to break his promise.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned to months, and still no word of the battalion sent. Some said they were dead. Months turned to years and years to a decade, and still nothing. All believed they were dead, and exactly ten years after the men were sent to war, a funeral was held for he who is known today as "The Ghost of the Lovesick Mourner".

The service was brief, but happy, because to all the villagers, it seemed that Jack was free of his curse of waiting.

As years passed, however, they were soon proven wrong.

Every year, on the anniversary of his beloved's departure, a wispy white figure, of which those who had known him said could only be Jack, appeared at the cliff overlooking the sea.

Although many people were frightened at first, it became apparent that this spirit was benign, uninterested in causing mischief or making others pay for the loneliness he had suffered, but instead focused only on dutifully standing watch at the cliff, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man he loved.

As generation by generation came to be, the story of the warrior and his devoted lover was passed down, though their names were regrettably lost, and as the legend grew, tourists came on the fateful day of war-torn love, at all hours of the day, to observe the stark-white phenomenon still awaiting his beloved's return.

Today was to be no different, or at least, it wasn't _supposed_ to be...

A small boat had just docked at the shore, about midday, belonging to a newly-wed couple, presumably on their honeymoon, but instead of the two lovebirds leaving the ship hand-in-hand, so in love, as these newly married couples are, an armored boot, a dark but transparent grey, was the only thing to come in contact with the sandy shore, soon followed by its match. The man to whom the boot belonged was fully-armored, missing only a battle helmet, which allowed long black hair to spill freely down his back, and his blood-coated sword gave a well-deserved sense of dread to any who would have so much as glanced at him then. Recalling the owners of the boat, a Japanese woman and a hispanic man, the warrior scoffed. They should have just agreed to the detour.

A flash of white quickly caught his eye, and he glanced in its direction, allowing a smile to slip onto his face for the first time in over a hundred years. "Just as I left you..."

Jack stood atop the cliff, red eyes only slightly clouded to pink in death as they stared emptily out at the sea. A storm was coming, he absently noted. It had been so long...was he ever going to return? But no, he had _promised_ , given his word! He _was_ coming back for him...wasn't he?

The crowd behind him, gawking tourists with no real concern for his plight, gasped aloud, but he paid them no mind, even at the sound of shuffling feet as the people parted.

He _did_ notice, though, when strong arms encircled his small frame and, instead of passing through him as they should have, held him closely to another's chest.

"Chase?" he whispered, barely containing his eagerness of spirit in the hushed tone. "Chase?"

At first there was no reply but lips pressed lovingly along his throat and a dark, opaque hand moving from his waist up to the wispy strands of hair in an affectionate gesture. "How I have longed to have you in my arms again, my beloved."

Jack squeaked, the only sign of his monumental effort to keep from sobbing his heart out, though etheral tears escaped his eyes anyways. "You...you're really here..."

"Mm," Chase briefly acknowledged, too busy reveling in the fact that the ability to touch his long lost love was no longer miles and miles out of his reach to form an entirely complete sentence, though the ability returned only to make his desires of the youth known, "I'm here, and after so long, I'd prefer you not deny me your affections."

The hint was immediately taken, and both spirits moaned into a passionate kiss, realizing now that they had taken such a simple sensation for granted before.

Breaking off the kiss, though not for necessity to breathe, as that was no longer an issue, Jack simply looked at his lover.

Long, wild black hair, a strong form, and a handsome face, just as the day he had left. The only substantial changes were his now-greyscale body, and a scar high on his cheek, probably from some battle or other, that Jack felt only augmented his attractiveness. His golden eyes were still the same, probably a ghost-rule of some kind, as Jack's own eyes remained colorful despite the lack of such on the rest of him.

Chase, too, took the time to inspect his loved one; soft, white hair, gentle features, a light, but wiry form, and of course, the unique and expressive red eyes only marginally lightened in color. Jack was just as beautiful to him as ever, but he had not gone without his own changes. Though his skin had been so pale, even in life but now moreso in death, a slightly more grey shade had overtaken the area just below his eyes, indicating a definite lack of sleep before joining the ranks of the non-living. Chase frowned, realizing as he noted the significantly thinner waist of his lover, that Jack had been neglecting his health for _far_ longer than just before his death. He must have been so lonely on this godforsaken island, no friends or family to call his own, and judging by the overall appearance of him, he had died young, younger than anyone _should_ be at the time of death.

But that no longer mattered. They were together once more, and all of that was behind them.

Jack gave a coy grin, faded red eyes glinting as a bit more color flooded to the irises in his suddenly playful mood. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"And leave you to the buzzards?" Chase referred to the tourists, frozen in fear, several feet away. "They aren't worthy of you, my love, not even _annually_."

The younger blushed, or he _would_ have, had he any blood to flush his cheeks in the first place, and he gave no answer but to lay his head on the elder's breastplate.

"Jack?" Chase queried with a quirked eyebrow. He seemed oddly pensive and quiet for his usual self.

"I don't want to be tethered here any longer."

The statement was simple, but the deeper meaning was not lost on Chase. "We needn't be so, anymore."

Almost in the blink of an eye, physical features disappeared, and black and white smoke twined about and around each other, in what appeared to be a beautiful display of yin and yang.

All at once, it seemed, the essences became combined and yet completely separated, everything and nothing, all and one, a fantastic exhibition of what may very well have been the very secrets of the universe.

Before even two seconds had passed, the apparitions had vanished.

They had gone from the mortal plane together.

And so the tale is nowadays told, star-crossed lovers separated by cruel fate and circumstance, reunited a century after death by their sheer force of love.

Though there was much skepticism of its base on true events, not one soul denied that it made for an inspiring love story.


End file.
